You Left Me Here Alone
by Shadowed Sunshine
Summary: Alfred copes with Arthur's death. Sad USUK


**WARNINGS: suicide (major character death), it's sad.**

 **Please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable.**

The news came on a Friday. Laughing, smiling, waving goodbye to his friends, Alfred walked into his house and saw his mother sitting at the kitchen table, red eyed.

She'd been crying.

He asked her what was wrong.

She opened her mouth, and the world came crashing down onto Alfred.

 _It wasn't true. It couldn't be. He couldn't-_

His thoughts raced, jumbled, not believing it, not able to believe it, before they cut off, unable to process the horrible news.

Alfred fell to his knees, hands coming up to his face as the sobs began, shaking his entire body.

It started quietly, sniffles before the tears turned to screams, and then it wouldn't stop.

 _He said he was fine. He promised! No, no, no!_

Tears ran down Alfred's face, soaking his shirt sleeves. He couldn't catch his breath, he couldn't feel anything except for the crushing pain of loss.

It hit him hard.

Arthur was dead.

Everything stopped. The world ground to a halt, everything around him faded, even his heart seemed to stop beating for a moment before it was racing faster than it ever had before.

More sobs left his lips, no longer quiet, only horribly, brutally loud as the only thing left to do was cry, scream, and wail his anger out to the heavens.

Arthur was gone, and he'd taken Alfred's heart with him.

 **X**

Alfred didn't want to be here, not in a world without Arthur. His bedroom looked so empty, so plain, so bland with the knowledge that his boyfriend would never step foot in it again.

But he didn't want to die. He shouldn't, wouldn't, _couldn't_ put anyone through that type of pain. Not after Arthur had done this to him. Not after he'd experienced this agony first hand.

He was angry. He was so mad at Arthur for not speaking up, for not saying anything. He was angry at Arthur for not trying harder to stay alive.

But mostly, he was mad at himself. He was upset that he hadn't looked closer, hadn't seen the signs. He'd known Arthur was having issues with his depression, but Arthur had been seeing a therapist, so he'd been _okay,_ right?

He hadn't.

And now he was dead.

The tears bubbled up on his tongue again, stinging and hot with overwhelming emotions.

Alfred would never hear Arthur laugh again.

Alfred would never hear Arthur's adorable little accent, he would never hear Arthur's excited exclamations of _I'm coming to visit!_

He would never hear Arthur exasperatedly sigh and call him some obscure British insult again.

Because Arthur was gone.

Forever.

Alfred would never see Arthur standing at the altar waiting for him on the day of their wedding.

He'd never see Arthur smile, he'd never see the way Arthur's face lit up when he was happy ever again.

Alfred would never see Arthur again.

The tears wouldn't stop. They ran and ran and ran until there was nothing to do but lie there as dry heaves wracked his body. And just when he thought he'd run out of tears, they started again, until Alfred was crying harder than before. He sobbed and sobbed, pouring out his heart as the sun slowly came up and the birds began to sing. It was with a cruel sense of irony that Alfred remembered that Arthur had always loved birdsong. He would sit with Alfred outside and they would just listen to the birds sing, holding hands and smiling.

Alfred barely heard the click of the door as his mother walked into his room once the sun had come up fully. She found him still crying in front of an empty box of tissues.

She didn't say anything, just brought him another box.

 **X**

Monday came, all too soon.

Alfred couldn't do it, couldn't pretend that everything was okay when Arthur was _dead_ and _nothing would ever be the same again._

His friends all asked him why he was so quiet.

He didn't answer.

They stopped asking.

Alfred picked at his food, stomach churning and the thought of food sickening.

He hadn't eaten properly in three days. How could he, when Arthur would never do so again?

His friends all seemed back to normal by his lunch period. They seemed to accept that Alfred was having an off day and paid it no mind. They tried to talk to him, but all they got in response were small shrugs and empty stares.

Alfred went through the motions, and he wasn't sure how he made it to the end of the day.

 **X**

Alfred was dreaming.

 _Arthur's eyes were the most emerald green that Alfred had ever seen, and he instantly loved them._

 _Arthur's_ _laugh was hypnotic, captivating Alfred as the voice of an angel left those lips. Alfred wanted to kiss them._

 _Alfred_ _had asked Arthur out the summer after sophomore year. Arthur had said yes. Alfred wondered how he could be so lucky to have his feelings requited for someone as amazing as Arthur._

 _They_ _had been so happy and in love._

 _They_ _spent days together, doing anything and everything. They spray painted buildings and snuck behind their parents' backs to make out._

 _Alfred_ _always noticed the ever present sparkle in Arthur's eyes when they were together. It was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen, and he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his days with Arthur._

 _"I'm moving_ _back to London," Arthur had told him halfway through their junior year. "I'm so sorry, I don't want to go!"_

 _Alfred_ _had cried. Arthur had cried. They promised to stay in touch._

 _Alfred_ _had met Arthur at the airport when he visited, his arms finally full of the Brit that he'd missed so badly. They'd run together the moment they made eye contact, holding each other so tightly it was as if they wouldn't be able to let go._

 _Alfred was_ _okay with that._

 _Arthur_ _told Alfred that he was seeing a therapist over a video call. Alfred was surprised, but didn't push asking about it because Arthur seemed uncomfortable talking about it. He smiled reassuringly and told Arthur that he'd be there if Arthur needed him._

 _Arthur_ _and Alfred were sitting in a field of grass and flowers. Alfred pulled his boyfriend into his lap and against his chest, relishing in the feeling of closeness. Arthur was so full of life, so radiant in the setting sun. His eyes seemed to glow and Alfred didn't know if he'd ever seen anything so beautiful._

 _"I love you," he'd said, taking Arthur's hand in his own._

 _"I love you too," Arthur had replied, leaning up to meet Alfred's lips in a kiss that tasted like sugar and happiness._

 _Alfred_ _had never felt so happy, so in love._

 _Everything was perfect._

And then he woke up, and the pain hit him all over again.

How was he supposed to go on?

 **X**

"Alfred, are you even trying to pay attention to the lesson?" The teacher asked, exasperatedly. Usually, Alfred Jones was his star student, always answering questions with an overenthusiastic hand wave before he was even called on.

Alfred continued to stare at the wall. He semi-consciously marked something down on his paper.

"Alfred!"

Alfred looked up, jumping at the sudden shout. He glanced at his teacher apologetically, still silent.

"Alfred, what has gotten into you lately?" The teacher made his was closer to Alfred's desk. "You're usually not like this, and enough is enough. You need to get over whatever girl rejected you and focus on your work. You haven't turned in any homework since last Friday, and I'm getting sick of your antics! School is your number one priority, you can't just-"

Alfred stood up in fury. His chair flew out behind him. Where it landed, he had no care. "My boyfriend killed himself," he hissed, low and dangerous, before grabbing his backpack and almost running out of the room.

It hurt to breathe.

He needed Arthur.

Arthur was dead.

 **X**

Alfred's outburst changed everything and nothing.

People seemed to care more about the fact that he had had a boyfriend than that he was hurting, and it tore him apart. Arthur hadn't attended this high school, but Alfred would have thought someone would have cared.

His friends hadn't said anything about it, however lunch was awkward and quiet that day. He didn't have anything to say and they were unwilling to break the silence.

Alfred held back tears.

He wouldn't cry at school, or he'd never stop.

Damn it all. _I miss you,_ he texted Arthur, somehow hoping for a response.

The tears fell.

 **X**

There was a letter sitting on the table when he got home. It was addressed to him, and when he noticed the return address, his heart seemed to stop.

It was from Arthur.

He tore it open once he got to his room, completely destroying the envelope in the process.

 _Dear Alfred,_

Oh god, it was Arthur's suicide note.

 _Please don't be upset._

 _I'm_ _sorry. I know I promised you, but people break promises, and for that I'm so sorry. It'll tear you up inside, and I can't even begin to apologise for that._

 _Darling_ _, know that there was nothing you could do. It's not your fault. The responsibility lies solely on myself. I chose this, and I'm sorry for any pain it causes._

 _I_ _love you, Alfred, please know that. You helped me through so much, more than you were even aware of._

 _That_ _day we sat in the field was the best day of my life. I felt alive and happy for the first time in months, and I wish we'd spent more time together._

Tears stained the paper, warping it and smearing the black ink. Alfred knew they were Arthur's, but he was sure that he'd have added his own before he got to the end. The tears were already gathering, hot and heavy, making it hard to read the paper.

 _You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you beyond words, beyond expression, and I hope that in time you will come to forgive me._

 _Move_ _on, Alfred. Be happy; do what I couldn't do._

 _I_ _have to go now. I'm sorry._

 _All_ _my love,_

 _Arthur_ _Kirkland_

Alfred set the letter down on his desk, took a deep breath, and then tears ran down his cheeks. Gasping sobs escaped him and he brought his hands up to his face. Every time he tried to fight the onslaught of emotions, they only hit him harder.

How could Arthur have the nerve to ask him to be happy?

 **X**

The funeral was in England. Alfred and his family flew in the day before. Alfred slept through the flight, and then slept when they reached the hotel room. It seemed that all he wanted to do was sleep.

The wake was a somber affair.

Arthur lay in a ivory colored casket. It was decorated with hundreds of white lilies and roses and other flowers Alfred couldn't name. The monotone seemed to suit Arthur.

Alfred walked up to the casket, taking in Arthur's still form. A bitter part of Alfred noted that the first time they'd worn suits together was when one of them was lying dead in a casket. Not to prom, like it should have been.

He stopped at the edge of the casket, resting his hands on edge.

Arthur looked pale, as he always had. His eyes were closed, and he looked as though he could be sleeping. Alfred desperately wanted for those eyes that were greener than summer grass to open, to stare at him with that loving smile Arthur had always had, to just blink open and say, _things will be okay, I'm here._

Alfred ran a gentle finger along Arthur's face. How many times had he done that when Arthur had been alive?

He'd taken it for granted. And now Arthur was lying there, stone cold.

Arthur's sleeves were just slightly too long. Alfred knew why: there were three vertical slashes on each wrist. Arthur had bled out on his bathroom floor. Alfred wondered what Arthur had thought in his final hours.

His throat began to close up, and he knew he was going to start crying again. But he didn't want to leave Arthur so soon, and he didn't want to cry yet, so he tried to stay still.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped slightly, startled.

A blond teenager stood next to him, looking into the casket. They stood in silence for a few moments before he spoke. "Are you okay?"

"No," Alfred choked on the one word. "I don't think I'll ever be okay again."

There was more silence. Then, "I recognized you from the photos," the teen gestured to the side of the room, where tables had been set up and photos of Arthur's life had been laid out all over them. Most of them were of him and Arthur. "You were his boyfriend." The statement was not condemning or mocking, simply said.

Alfred nodded.

"I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt," the teen continued. "I was in most of his classes."

Alfred nodded again, not sure what else to do.

They stood in more silence.

"Arthur loved you, you know," Ludwig said, "I would hear him talk about you to his friends, and in all the photos with you, he's smiling."

Tears began to sting Alfred's eyes again, and this time, he let them. "My love for him wasn't enough. If only I had-" he broke off as his throat closed up.

It was too much. Alfred collapsed against the casket, wanting nothing but for Arthur to wake up so that he could kiss Arthur's lips and hold his hand and feel his presence next to him.

He thought back to all the texts he'd sent to Arthur's number.

 _I miss_ _you._

 _School_ _was okay today, though I wish we could have talked._

 _I'm_ _going to bed. Sleep well._

 _I'll_ _talk to you later._

 _What_ _are you doing now? I'm at the store._

 _I_ _keep hoping I'll get a response if I keep texting._

 _What_ _am I doing, Arthur? You're gone and everything is all wrong._

 _The_ _sun doesn't seem as bright as it used to._

 _Please_ _come back._

 _I need you._

 _I_ _miss you so much that it hurts. Oh god, why did you do it?_

 _I_ _love you._

 _[The number you are attempting to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please dial the correct number and try again.]_

He'd hoped that if he kept sending messages, he'd get a response. It was silly, but he didn't know what else to do. And now his last connection to Arthur had been severed.

The tears fell, running down his cheeks. He felt as though people were staring, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Arthur was dead.

 **X**

Alfred gave a speech at the funeral. He was a mess, and stumbled over half of his words, but he managed. He spoke about what Arthur had meant to him, he spoke about how they loved each other, and he spoke about how devastatingly lost he was now.

There was applause as Alfred sat back down in his seat, but Alfred didn't feel like he deserved it. This wasn't something to clap about, not when his boyfriend was dead.

Nothing would be okay again.

Matthew, Alfred's cousin, was at the funeral. He hadn't been able to make it to the wake, but Alfred was incredibly grateful for his support.

They sat together, listening to people speak about Arthur. Alfred gripped Matthew's hand tightly, his tears finally having run dry.

At the end of the service, they gathered around the tombstone. Alfred placed a bouquet of white roses over it. The very center rose was stained a bright, brilliant green.

Just like Arthur's eyes.

Alfred stepped back, his own blue eyes burning. Allistor, Arthur's oldest brother, placed a hand on his shoulder.

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, a tear having already slipped out.

He'd spent so much time crying this past week, and didn't know if he'd ever be able to stop.

Allistor pulled him in for a hug as they both broke down.

 **X**

Nobody said anything about Alfred's new necklace when he went back to school.

Alfred was thankful for that. He didn't know how he'd explain that it held his boyfriend's ashes.

Alfred threw himself into his schoolwork. It was a distraction, something to get his mind off of Arthur. He completed every assignment, finished every extra credit project, and volunteered at the animal shelter twice a week.

Slowly, the numbing, crushing, pain of Arthur's death began to fade. It was gradual, but little by little, it went.

There wasn't a day that Alfred didn't think of Arthur, but he tried to focus on the happy memories.

And when Alfred sat in front of his first patient, he knew that he would do everything in his power to help the teenager.

There was a reason he'd become a psychiatrist.

And that reason he held close to his heart in a little silver pendant.

 **X**

Alfred sat on the edge of his bed, face in his hands.

It was the tenth anniversary of Arthur's death.

Alfred wondered if he'd made good on Arthur's last wish. Was he happy? Had he moved on?

He had seen kids come through his office so many times. He'd talked to them, gotten to know them, and cared for them. He helped them through their struggles, gave them an ear that would listen, and an adult to confide in.

He had lost some. Each time he had, it was a crushing loss and for a while he wouldn't know what to do.

But then he would go on, meet with the next teen, because he had a promise to keep.

He would help as many as he could.

Alfred ran a hand through his hair, setting his glasses on the bedside table.

He'd graduated high school ten years ago.

He hoped Arthur would be proud of what he had done. He'd helped so many kids just like Arthur.

Alfred stood up, and the world seemed to spin. Black spots danced in his vision.

He thought he could see an outline of Arthur's straw blond hair, see a faint glimpse of Arthur's emerald green eyes.

He closed his eyes and reopened them. When he did, he saw Arthur standing in front of him, clear and crisp.

"Arthur?" he asked, his voice sounding muffled and far away.

Arthur didn't say anything. Alfred wondered if this was real.

Arthur stepped forward, holding out a hand. Alfred took it. The world solidified, but he was still disoriented.

He didn't feel right. He felt… different.

He turned to where he had seen Arthur.

Arthur was still standing there.

It was another one of those dreams.

He didn't dream about Arthur as often as he used to, but he still did.

But this felt different.

Arthur reached out and tucked a lock of hair out of Alfred's face.

His hand felt real.

"SCD," Arthur whispered, as though he couldn't believe it. "Sudden cardiac death."

Alfred's spine ran cold.

This was, it couldn't be-

This was the real Arthur.

Alfred stared, unable to believe it. If this was Arthur, then he must be dead too, how could he be dead?

But then this meant that they were together again.

Alfred threw his arms around him, holding his so tightly that he almost thought he'd hurt him.

"You told me to move on," he breathed, "but I never could. I still love you." This was Arthur, _Arthur_ in his arms. He was seeing Arthur again. Arthur.

He pulled back just enough to look into Arthur's face. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, falling from brilliant green eyes.

Arthur traced a finger along Alfred's cheekbone. He didn't look a day older than when Arthur had seen him last.

"I love you too," Arthur whispered, voice barely able to be heard. "I never stopped loving you. I'm so sorry for the pain I caused."

"We're together now," Alfred murmured, tears falling from his own eyes now, and pressed their lips together for the first time in ten years. The kiss tasted of salt, but that was okay.

He was never letting go again, he vowed to himself, and held Arthur tighter.

 **X**

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